I'm In Love With A Criminal
by Night Searcher
Summary: Spies, spies, everywhere but not one who knows how to love.
1. Chapter 1

He laid there motionless. No breath, his eyes like glass. He was dead. Or so he made them think.

* * *

**~Arthur's POV~ **

Day after bloody day, he had to work this dull, lifeless job. And for what? All because he blew his first, and last, assignment. Arthur Kirkland, call sign Valor, was an international British spy. No not like the pathetic spies that blow things up with exploding pens or wear those cheap phony outfits like in the movies, no Arthur was a drilled to the bone, true blooded, die hard spy. Not that you would know based on his current employment.

He worked at a prison; as a stupid prison guard. He had to until the board decided if they would allow him back in the field or send him to a desk job permanently.

"Oi! Kirkland! Stop slacking off ya bum, we've got a fresh batch coming in and I don't you dozing off when these delinquents come in."

"Yes sir." How Arthur hated taking orders from a fat, lazy, pompous, arrogant, smelly, foulmouthed, asshole like the Warden. He slammed him book down onto the table and started stomping to the gate where he would have to meet the new scum of society.

Little did he know, a new assignment was about to walk through those gates

**~Alfred's POV~**

The entire bus stunk to high heaven. Didn't any of these guys know how to bathe or have any regard for personal hygiene? The man in the seat in front of him let out a hardy belch. Guess not. But it didn't matter, he would be out of this hell hole soon enough. All he had to do was meet his new partner. Some hoity toity big shot British dude under the call sign Valor.

**~Arthur's POV~**

Man, did this batch smell. He could smell their horrific stench from the doors even though they were all the way at the gate; probably a good twenty yards away. He tried not to breath as they passed.

"Hey Kirkland," one of the only guards, named Thompson, Arthur could tolerate in this dump started saying, "See that last one? I hear he's a Yankee." _Why would a Yankee be coming to a British prison?_ As he passed Arthur, who must've been starring, saw the American wink. Astonished at the much taller, dark blonde, deep blue eyed man, Arthur returned the wink with a scowl. The Yank just chuckled.

Arthur could tell this one would be trouble.

**~Alfred's POV~ **

Alfred could tell this one would be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Arthur's POV~ **

As expected, that Yankee was indeed a handful. The very first night, he had to be put in his own cell because he kicked his cell mates ass. He kicked anyone's ass who he deemed worthy of it. But after that, he said nothing. No matter how much the other prisoners pestered him to confess what he did to get in here, he'd look at them, and said nothing.

Arthur tried for a week to find his file but never succeeded. No one knew his name. Most of the time, Arthur found saw him with a face as though he was waiting for someone. Waiting for something to happen.

It had been three weeks since the agency had sent him to this position. They said they'd contact him when news came. He sat in the ridiculously small prison library reading the same book for the third time. _Frankenstein. _He was usually the only one who came to the library; a merger bookshelf would be more like it.

He wanted to go home. The agency made him stay at the crummiest, smallest flat he had ever seen in his life. They gave him this crap job and all for what? The a subtle yet direct way of saying "_sorry, you didn't make the cut, so we're just going to leave you like this, have a nice day!_"

Arthur was so wrapped up in his own personal issues he didn't see a man lurking in the corners watching him.

"You know, you're really cute when you get that worried look on your face." Arthur nearly dropped the book from his hands and immediately sat up. It was that damn Yankee. "Don't be stupid, you've got thirty minutes in here and you better not give Kirkland here a hard time ya' hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say constable." The Yankee mocked in a mediocre British or Scottish accent. Either way it sucked. The other guard grimaced and stomped away, leaving Arthur with this weirdo. Pondering how he was going to handle the man, he didn't even see him reach for a book right behind him.

"Know any good reads around this place?" His arm was extended right in front of Arthur's face and his head was right next to his ear. When he spoke, cool puffs of breath tickled Arthur's ears which promptly turned red.

"I've only read the beginning of _The Lord of The Flies_ but people tell me it's rather insightful to human nature." The American didn't move, instead, he began to move his arm down towards Arthur's lap. At that moment, his whole face began burning. _Oh god_, he thought, _he's one of _those _kind of guys_. Thinking he would be violated right then and there, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut preparing himself for the worst. Instead of his fear coming to life, he heard laughing. Opening his eyes to the Yankee holding _Frankenstein_.

Arthur looked up surprised, his face now absolutely red, at the much taller American. This was the first time he saw the man show any emotion. Even though he had a wicked temper, he didn't show much emotion other than a serious frown. Other than that he was stone faced. But his laughing face glowed. His nose crinkled, dimples became visible, and his teeth gleamed.

"What were you thinking I was gonna' do?" He finally managed to say in between wheezing breaths. Realizing the stupidity of his thoughts, Arthur silently scolded himself. _What if that had been an enemy torturing you for information? What if your life or the lives of others depended on how you handled that situation?_ But it wasn't and it would never be like that.

"You've only got twenty-five more minutes, so if you're going to start reading something, I suggest you get on that." He reached for his book that resided in the Yankee's hands but the man pulled back with a smirk.

"Fine. That books not going anywhere. And neither are you. You two can keep each other company for a very _long_," He stood up and faced the man, "_long_, _long_ time." He showed no emotion. The light that was once in his eyes was gone. Stone-faced.

"Just sit down and be quiet Wanker."

"My name isn't _Wanker_."

"Well what is it then? If I'm going to be annoyed with you, I might as well know your name."

A few moments passed by, and Arthur wasn't sure he would tell him or not. But as he started to turn around, he spoke. "My name's Alfred Jones."


	3. Chapter 3

**~Alfred's POV~**

He had everything he needed. This guy would be a total push over.

Alfred sat in his cell with his hands underneath his neck and his head resting on his extremely flat pillow. God, he couldn't wait to get out of this dump. It had taken him nearly three weeks to gather all the intel he needed. Everything was hidden well. A little too well. He almost missed certain documents and reports, but then again, they were supposed to be hard to find otherwise his plans would be discovered and he'd be permanently screwed.

The bell rang for mealtime. He put his feet up, expecting Kirkland to come waltzing up to him half screaming for him to get his filthy feet off the cot. But it wasn't; it was stinking old Hamilton, the fat lard who ate donuts as the prisoners ate the crap food.

"Where the hells Kirkland?" Alfred said nonchalantly, but with a twinge of frustration. _If that asshole got himself fired, I'll kill him for ruining everything_.

"Didn't you hear, he got pulled out. This was only a temporary gig for him. Now get your lazy ass out of bed and move it to the dining hall."

"I'm not hungry." Alfred responded with the bitterest and cruelest tone of voice.

_How did I miss this in the file? My plan was solid!_ The American had never made such a dumb mistake before. He wouldn't let one mistake however get in his way. He had a plan. A goal. A mission. And he would see it through. No matter what.

**~Arthur's POV~**

He stood in front of a board or directors. His bosses. The people who would ultimately decide if he would stay in the field or be put back into a deck job for good. His palms were sweating. And shaking.

"Mr. Kirkland, your education credentials are outstanding, double major from Oxford in genetic and bioengineering," a pretty women began saying with ice in her eyes, "You've aced all your paper examinations and scored the second," her voice was amplified for that word, "highest in the marksman exam. You are the of epitome of what every agent should be. But this is all on paper," Her icy eyes exposed a gleam of hope, "According to several of your instructors, they said, and I quote '_participate cracks under pressure_' and '_lacks the competitive edge that is vital for this work field_'." Her voice was unreadable, but definitely trying to get across that he didn't do well with applying the book techniques to the physical world.

A much older mentor chimed in to try and save him, "Despite what my previous colleague has stated," he gave her a rather disappointed look, "Mr. Kirkland responded the quicker than my time setting a new agency record, for the bomb reaction, and deactivation." Arthur still heard mumbles of disapprovement.

"I've witnessed first hand," the agency's phycologist Reginald Smith, "many agents crack under the pressure of passing the examination phase but have gone to become one of the greatest undercover agents this country, well, maybe not the country," a few directors chuckled, as did Dr. Smith, "have seen. Mr. Kirkland here is no exception to that. He is without a doubt one of the most steady minded people I know. He even passed my level 4 interrogation test and receives my undoubting approval." Murmurs of awe surged through the room. No one ever got past the level 2 interrogation tests without cracking.

Arthur stood there with his knees buckling ever so slightly. A small bead of sweat trembled down the side of his face. "I-If I may?" All eyes immediately shot towards him. "I would just like to say, I never even thought I would make it this far. And I have. Now here I am faced with the last and final challenge of three long years of training. I'm not going to sugar coat it. I know I'm not the first pick when it comes down to it. I know I fucked up, pardon my language, in my mock trials. But I knew people were watching. When I'm taking tests, I visualize the actual scenario. I play it out and I'm fine. Its like this, if you told a kid to study everything there is to know about football, then play for the first time in his life in a Varsity game, he's bound to mess up. But once he sees those mistakes, he won't make them again."

Only a few minutes ago was Arthur saying those words. He was now sitting in a chair outside the conference room. His leg twitched furiously. Nervously. He wanted these ten minutes to be over. He just wanted some sense of normalcy back in his life. Then again. His life had never been normal and he didn't expect it to become that way now.

"Sir," the very kind and quiet assistant with cute, big round glasses and a gentle voice. She smiled softly, "Arthur, you can come back in now."

* * *

**a/n: Sorry I haven't posted in a while; been a crazy couple of weeks with Model Congress, sailing, and school. Sorry this is short, just wanted to give you something after my absence. Hope you like it and be expecting some longer chapters in the near future :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**~Arthur's POV~**

The siren lights were blinding as Arthur pulled up to the prison. He was glad to be pulling back up to this god forsaken building with a new purpose. As he pulled up, he noticed several of the prison guards being interviewed by several more agents. One who saw Arthur and began walking towards him.

"Oi! Kirkland! What the hell's going on ere'? One minute your gone and then these blokes come not three days later like they own the bloody joint? the warden kept yelling with his thick smoke filled breath.

Arthur simply looked down at his iphone for the message and brief on the situation. The warden tried to snatch it out of his hands. "OI! Listen to me you overconfident punk! Don't even think that you can get away with that after disappearing for five days and expect me to give you your job back!" Arthur wiped several drops of spit off his face.

"Did you not see me pull up in a British Police car? Then, you completely ignore the fact that I'm wearing a British Intelligence Agency badge and try to steal my phone away," the warden's face looked dumbfounded. "Now, I'm here because I have been informed that one of the inmate escaped and was a highly dangerous suspect in an foreign case."

"Yeah, but I don't gotta answer to you."

"Oh yes you do. Otherwise you will lose your job and be put down on a list a suspect. Now," his face grew bitter and cold, "tell me who escaped." The warden looked about ready to pee his pants.

"Al-Alfred Jones s-sir."

* * *

Arthur spent hours interviewing half of the prison staff. He came upon Thompson; the man seemed a little more shaken than the rest.

"Thompson," he jumped at the sound oh Arthur's voice, "Thompson. I'm going to need you to answer a couple of questions. Okay?" The man much too young for the hard life of being a prison guards nodded his head weakly. "So, Thompson. Tell me what happened in your opinion." The poor boy was shaken up. Alfred saw it in his eyes.

"Well, that evening, I was put in charge for the second level cells, ya' know, the level Jones was kept in." He paused, as though he expected something painful to happen, "I was walking around just like you recommended with my torch low so they couldn't see my head, and I walked by Jones's cell." He closed his eyes so he could recall every tiny detail, "I was walking by his cell and I heard someone whisper my name. _Thompson_, he said, _you gotta help me_, I shone my light on his hands that were outstretched through the bars. They," Thompson looked pale. Arthur put his hand on Thompson's shoulder. "They... were... they were covered in blood sir. He told me that he fell and scraped his hand across some rust. I opened his cell and cuffed his hands in front, my first mistake. We were about half way to the infirmary when he stopped suddenly, _Sorry man. No hard feelings_. He backflipped off my shoulders, wrapped the chain across my neck and held it there."

The poor boy's hands were clenched so hard they were white. His face was as white as a sheet. "He held the chain there till I stopped fighting. My body collapsed, and my throat was full of pain. I lay on the ground as he unlocked his cuffs. Two more guards came in with guns blazing. He took there guns. Like a one man army, he took every weapon anyone pointed his way. I blacked out. When I woke up, I saw flashing lights and heard sirens. I got up and made it seem like I wasn't in the center of the crime."

Arthur felt bad somehow, "I'm sorry what happened to you. I promise, I'll put an end to this."

Arthur stormed out of the front doors. "I want a full report on my front door within the next twenty-four hours." he said to the nearest officer, "I'm gonna get this son of a bitch." A new fire glowed in his eyes. Everything about this case gave him an adrenaline rush. It was his first _real_ case and he wouldn't fuck it up. Hell would freeze over and he'd skate with the devil before he gave up.


	5. Chapter 5

**~Arthur's POV~**

An entire bloody day wasted; wasted on good for nothing prison guards who didn't have a damn clue as to how serious the situation was. Alfred Jones was an international criminal loose in the streets of London. But at the rate things were going, he could be half way across the globe by now. Arthur was just happy to be half way home. The traffic was an absolute bitch at this time of day. Especially at the height of tourist season. Mostly Yanks with their little tour guide maps and cameras out front and center. All trying to soak in the historic city he called home.

Looking back, he never had a proper home. Being an only child, his parents used it to their advantage and were away a lot on business causing Arthur to hop from one boarding school to the next. He had gone to school in six of the seven continents. He lived out of a suitcase. Only when he turned eighteen and got into college. Bought himself a flat, worked five part time jobs to pay rent and school fees, but he wouldn't have it another way. He'd never really made any friends, just acquaintances. He'd never been good with people.

His windshield wipers worked to swipe away the rain that was pouring down. No matter what his mood, the rain always seemed to give him a clean slate.

He jogged up to his third floor, one bed, one bath flat with his bag filled with papers and files. The door clicked open softly. Throwing his bag, filled with more documents than it was intended to hold, on the couch, he headed to his room.

The pillows neatly laid on his bed called his name, tauntingly knowing he couldn't because of the mountain of paper work he had undertaken. Changing into a pair of college sweats and a red T, he headed to his living room. Plopping down, he went to turn on his TV. Something was off. Arthur always put the remote underneath the flat screen across from the couch, not on the coffee table. Maybe he forgot this morning; after all, he was rushing to get out the door.

His first day as an agent. It didn't go quite as he expected it to. But at least the board gave him this assignment instead of wait listing him for one. But man did this one have it's share of paper work.

Thunder blasted outside. The rain came down harder. Arthur got up just to make sure that all the windows were properly locked and closed all the way. He checked the one in the living room last. The small book shelf underneath had a glass door. It was open, the books tilted; one book was missing. He always put everything back where it came from. Some one had been here. Lightning cracked. The lamp next to the couch went out like every other light in the room.

_Perfect_, Arthur thought, _just perfect._ He felt around to the kitchen for his torch. Flicking it on, he focused for sounds around the apartment. It didn't help the fact that it was storming outside. But he listened intently anyway. He pulled the small hand gun out from the holster strapped to the table.

Arthur held his light right next to his gun hand which was far, and in front of his chest. He walked silently, striking with the side of his foot, and rolling down; avoiding all the creeks in the floor, he began scanning the house again. There were very few places this guy could be hiding. A closet, the pantry, or the lou.

Suddenly, the sound of a book thudding against a table broke the silence. A man was sitting in his arm chair.

"Who are you?" Arthur questioned with the barrel of the gun pointed right at the man's head. He wore a baseball cap and kept his face hidden. "Answer me," he cocked the gun, "or you will die." The man complied. Arthur lowered his gun in astonishment. _How the fuck did he do it?_

"Hello," smiled Alfred, "_Valor_."


	6. Chapter 6

**~Alfred's POV~**

Alfred thought he'd never get out of that prison. He did feel bad about that young guard though; it did hurt though when he had to scrap his hands lightly across the rust, but in the name of accuracy, it did the trick. A fear of infection lingered in the back of his head so he did end up stopping at a pharmacy for bandages and some disinfectant, and some normal clothes. A prison outfit wouldn't swing well with the police. Let alone the fashion maniacs.

Walking around in a pair of beat up jeans and shirt, a hoodie, and converse, Alfred felt like himself again. Walking down the street, he pick-pocketed some random guy's phone, and a wallet. He felt bad robbing things from peoples lives but then again, his entire life had been robbed from him. The rain started coming down.

He walked in front of a three story building. It had a couple of balconies, no more than six or so apartments in the entire structure. But it was nice. This was the place.

* * *

Man the look on his face was priceless. Arthur was so predictable. The classic single guy. The classic newbie agent. Even his gun was hidden under the table. Alfred stared at the amazingly pissed off man past the barrel of a small hand gun.

"I thought hand guns were against the law in Great Britain."

"How the hell did you find this place and get in here?" Arthur asked with a voice hard enough to crush bone.

"I looked. I followed. I payed attention." Alfred answered simply. "Anyone could've found you. I chose to though."

Alfred couldn't make out his expression. He couldn't tell if it was scared, nervous, angry, or worried. It might've been his normal blank face. Either way, it was funny. "You look even cuter with that face than the one in the library." Nothing. The gun was pointed straight at him.

"If you keep screwing around I will shoot you."

"I don't doubt that you would... even if there were bullets that is." Finally, some expression.

"What the fuck do you mean?" His slightly bushy, yet handsome thick eye brows furrowed together.

"I mean, I took the bullets out." Alfred said with a faint smile. "Don't believe me?" He stood up, Arthur tensed; the gun followed his skull. He strode so close the barrel wasn't five inches away from his head. So close, Alfred could see the natural tremble of Arthur's hands. His trigger finger wasn't yet on the actual trigger. But it moved like it wanted to.

"Go ahead," Alfred's forehead touched the gun, "I've known ever since I started training I'd die young. So go ahead. End it for me." He saw confusion in Arthur's eyes. Alfred would show him just how serious he was. He jerked the gun out of Arthur's hands and placed them neatly in his own and aimed right in between Arthur's eyes. Alfred pulled the trigger.

"Why would I lie?" He looked at Arthur laying fearfully on the ground shaking. "And if this were real, you'd _really_ be dead." He crouched down, "But that can't happen. I promise, I'll help you, so long as you help me. I need your help. I need you, _Arthur_." Alfred held out an open palm. Wondering if the man would take it.

* * *

It had taken about half the night to explain the situation.

"So let me recap," said Arthur, "you've got to prove that you were never a double agent by bringing in the man within your own agency who were, and take down the guy pretending to be you to make it look like you were the double agent all along."

"You're right so far."

"But why do you need me? I just became an agent. I've hardly got any experience in the field, as you just witnessed first hand," Arthur didn't make eye contact when he said that and blushed a tiny bit.

"Because you're the best when it comes to the books. That's where I'd need you most. Tracking his movements, find a pattern. Search for clues that posed as targets. Why me. Stuff like that. I promise, all you'll need to do is look through a couple mission documents, financial records, and I'll be out of your hair within two weeks or less." Alfred gave the best sly, puppy dog face he could.

"All you've gotta do is swear to keep this on the down low. And you'll never see me again." He held out his hand. But he didn't trust his word even as their hands shook.


	7. Chapter 7

**~Arthur's POV~**

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Of course he'd never agree to anything that foolish wanker said. He wouldn't jeopardize his job, the entire agency, or the entire world for that matter, for a complete and total stranger.

Arthur got up early that morning to go through his and Alfred's plans. He was supposed to log into the system and find any and all confidential project files under the saved name _ARK_ and _Genus_.

He leaned up against the island in his kitchen with a cup of Irish tea. Arthur checked his watch. 8:30 a.m. He'd have to do this now. Now or never.

* * *

Arthur felt a little trickle of sweat run down his left temple. He acknowledge colleagues and received plenty of congratulations to becoming a field agent. He sat down at his desk and did his normal routine. Arthur tried his best to not seem suspicious. He opened up the company data base, and located the files. Even though he wasn't going to give them to Jones, he wanted to know what was on them. If an agent from another country was concerned with his company, someone should look into it.

He uploaded both onto his flash drive. Now, he had to do what he really came to do. He opened up a company alert and proceeded to type that a double American agent was threatening to infiltrate the company. Before he could click the button to send, armed guards rushed into the room. They ran for Arthur.

"Arthur Kirkland!" they yelled in his face as they yanked his arms behind his back and pushed his face into the desk. "You are here by under arrest for high treason against the United Kingdom, Great Britain, and her Royal Majesty's secret service. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence."

Handcuffs were harshly put around his wrists. He watched his colleagues stare in horror. As they pushed him away he saw the same secretary who told him he was officially an agent wore a blank look behind her large framed glasses. It was probably because of her that Arthur waited to do what he was about to.

Once they were through the door into the hallway Arthur whipped his head back cracking his skull against the officer holding him. He grabbed the gun from the holster of the cop next to him, shot three rounds and shot three men. One was left; obviously he was a rookie.

"Why the hell are you bringing me in?" Arthur asked angrily.

"It's our job, sir." Arthur cocked the gun.

"I meant, why are you arresting me when I was about to inform this entire agency about a breach of security?"

The man shook profusely. "W-we received an anonymous tip this morning that a double agent within the vicinity was working closely with an enemy of Great Britain and was planning on stealing secure files." Only one man could've possibly given the tip quick enough.

Taking pity on the younger man, Arthur smacked the gun across his face knocking him unconscious.

Once back on the streets, Arthur hurried through London looking for a tube entrance. He noticed three men in black coats following him for about two blocks. They worked for his agency. Or his former agency anyway.

Once below the hustle of the city above, he faced an even bigger wave of people. The huge hoards of people would surely give him a decent cover. Swiping a scarf and some sunglasses at a kiosk, Arthur hopped on the train not knowing where it'd go, but he was certain the men following him weren't on board.

* * *

England's finest thought he was a traitor. A double crossing, backstabbing, lying, murderous villain. Arthur had already mortally wounded three men and knocked two others unconscious. He sat on a park bench with the palm of his hand pressing into his forehead.

The a cool breeze allowed him to snuggle into the scarf. A scarf he had stolen; along with the sunglasses. He was stooping to the level of a common criminal. The same level that the men he fought so hard from harming his beloved country were the same type of men he was becoming.

"If you keep worrying like that someone, besides me, might actually realize how cute you are with that face, Kirkland." That voice. _Him_.

Arthur looked up but saw no one in front of him. He realized the voice was behind him on the bench back to back with his.

"You set me up didn't you, Jones." Arthur's voice was pure ice. He wanted it to cut the man as the words left his lips. He wanted to hurt him.

"I knew you'd double cross me so I double crossed you right back. That's how it works in this business and the sooner you learn that the better." Alfred turned and faced Arthur; his gaze was unreadable. "This was the only way I could make sure you went along with my plans."

Arthur scowled, "By ruining my life? By making my country hate me? For making my agency who was already on the fence about me know for absolute certain now that I wasn't to be trusted?! I hate you, no I despise you, and would rather die than work with the likes of you, piece of shit."

Arthur stood up and glared long and hard at the American. God, he wanted to hurt him so fucking badly. Suddenly, something sounded off in Arthur's ears. A suppressed gun shot. Something struck the tree next to his head; then something struck his shoulder, very, very close to his heart.

**a/n: sorry for the long wait between chapters, my life is crazy. Thank you for all the constructive reviews and compliments. Enjoy :)**


End file.
